Desire
by Prieda Solo
Summary: Harry isn't the only one at Hogwarts to be seduced by the mirror of Erised. Not the only one to have dreams they prefer to dwell on, not the only one to have faces that they yearn to see. Angsty romance type thingy. Written as essay avoidance.


Disclaimer: Plot and characters all belong to J.K Rowling. This is a work of fanfiction and no copyright infringement is intended.

Desire

He approaches the mirror, warily, hungrily. He knows what he will see; he's come here before, every evening now, for far too long.

He stands in front of the glass, he's expecting it, but it still makes him jump as the figure inside the mirror approaches, laughing eyes and a sweet seductive smile, hair that floats gently in a non-existent breeze.

That face. The face that launched a thousand ships. That face that, long ago, he would have been prepared to die for. The face that haunts his dreams, even now, even after all these years.

He moves closer, and puts his hand up against the glass. Smiling, the figure in the mirror does the same, and he feels a tight constriction in his chest as his fingers reach those of his lover.

No. Not his lover. Not in the real world. Only in his thoughts and his dreams and his deepest darkest imaginings. Never his lover. Only ever his friend.

"I love you." He whispers, and it feels like a confession. And because this is the mirror of desire, the mirror of dreams rather than truth, of hopes rather than reality, the person on the other side of the glass blows him a kiss, sweetly and gently.

He still remembers when they first met, so long ago it seems like another world. He remembers the smell of apple-blossom, the sound of an argument in a house nearby, and, suddenly, the most beautiful person he'd seen in his life, sitting beside a tree, frowning in concentration.

They'd been so young.

If someone had told him then, that one day he'd be a teacher, a Professor, he would have laughed.

If someone had told him how it would all end, in death, in war, in loneliness, he would never have believed them.

He can feel the tears running down his face.

There's a small discrete cough from the door. Quickly, he turns his head.

"Severus?"

"Headmaster." Snape's reply is cold.

Dumbledore gives a small smile and gestures helplessly towards the mirror, "Dreams, Severus. And unfortunately life cannot be lived in dreams."

Snape stays silent.

"We all make mistakes, Severus. One cannot blame oneself for the death of one we hold dear."

Snape takes a deep breath and carefully avoids looking at the mirror, "Headmaster…"

Self-consciously, Dumbledore wipes the tears from his cheeks, "You sound somewhat surprised to see me, Severus?"

"Yes. I was expecting…someone else."

"Who." Reluctantly, Dumbledore turns away from the mirror, inside, the figure fades.

Snape looks a little awkward. "Potter. I…think I saw him. Last night. I…I think there was someone in here."

Dumbledore can read the accusation in Severus's mind: _You've given him that damn cloak haven't you."_

"So Harry has found the mirror of Erised?" He asks, to fill the silence.

"Possibly."

"Severus, I think it would be best if I dealt with this."

Snape nods, "Certainly."

Dumbledore realises, slightly ashamed, that Snape has been careful not to look at the mirror since he entered the room.

"Well Severus, the mirror is still working. I think it will perform adequately for the task I have in mind." He tries to sound cheerful, to keep up the façade he's been acting in for far too long. "I think a well-deserved rest is in order. Surely you don't have to patrol the corridors all at every hour."

Snape leaves and Dumbledore pauses at the door, turning back for just one last look in the mirror of desire. He doesn't dare say a thing, Snape is still in hearing range, but he thinks the words, so loud he hopes they'll float inside the mirror, into a world that he knows does not exist.

_Goodbye Gellert._

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Hooray for young intelligent study partners and their plans to take over the world:p

Did I fool anyone? At the beginning?

Feel free to tell me how crap this is. Written at 10.30pm simultaneously with an essay on protein synthesis; this had the word 'ribosome' in it at one point, and my supervisor is going to get a _very _interesting essay tomorrow morning.


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